A Second Chance
by Frenchie-chan
Summary: The mindless musings of a scatterbrained schoolgirl. I wrote this when I was in middle school, and unearthed it years later. At age twelve I thought it was brilliant, but now...eh... Just read and reveiw.


**Artists often say, 'I hate my earlier style. My earlier works suck.' One of my best friends is an artist, and I hear this on a regular basis from her. Being as thouroughly clueless at art as I am, I usually think, "Oh, your earlier works are fine." However, when I saw this, I knew what they meant. I wrote this many, many moons ago. The details are foggy, but I'm 99 positive I was in middle school. You could say I was a newbie phan when I wrote this. At the time, I thought this was absolutely nothing sort of brilliant writing. I was ready to proclaim myself the next J.K. Rowling. I put this in the storage bin and completely forgot it existed. Several years later, I was looking though my old school things, and what did I come across, but this! I reread it and thought, "Wow, this is really crappy." I was all for redoing it and making it presentable, but the dreaded Plot Bunny cornered me and said that if I changed it, he would spork my eyes out. So, here it is! I edited it, and posted it here, left entirely unchanged from when it was first consived by a gawky middle-school girl.**

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**A Second Chance**

(Recap)

Their lips broke apart from the searing kiss. Christine smiled up at him. He looked into Christine's eyes as if he were looking at her for the last time. Only when he tasted salt did he realize tears were streaming from his eyes.

"_Set her free,"_ whispered a smooth voice in his head.

"**No,"** Said a firmer voice. **"She's chosen you. She's yours now. Remember?" **

"_Set her free…Let her go…Set her free…"_

The thoughts gave him the nasty feeling she was his prisoner. It was as if he were choking, drowning in his own misery.

"_Take her, forget me, forget all of this!"_ He said hysterically. _"Leave me alone…forget all you've seen."_ He looked over his shoulder to find them staring at him in disbelief. _"Go now,_ _don't let them find you."_ It was more of a command than a statement.

"_Take the boat, swear to me, never to tell…the secrets you know of the Angel in Hell…"_

He could hear the angry mob approaching. Any moment they would burst through the door.

He turned to see Christine and Raoul still standing there. Half blinded by tears he screamed, _"GO NOW! GO NOW, AND LEAVE ME!"_

He turned on his heel and stormed into his bedchambers. As he franticly searched for something to break, a strange music started up behind him. He slowly turned on the spot to find his monkey music box had mysteriously begun playing. He sat before it in a trancelike, almost semiconscious state. He suddenly felt compelled to sing along with it.

"_Masquerade,_

_Paper faces on parade,_

_Masquerade,_

_Hide your face so the world will never find you…"_

He felt the sudden, eerie sensation he was being watched. He could feel two pairs of eyes on the back of his neck. He turned on the spot to find Christine standing behind him, watching his every move. Her hair was mussed, her brow slightly furrowed, and her head cocked to one side. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before he said the one thing that had been repeating itself in his head since the moment he met Christine.

_"Christine, I love you,"_

It was true. He had loved Christine the moment he had laid eyes on her.

Christine's expression changed from quizzical to unreadable.

She glanced quickly at her engagement ring he had given her. She approached slowly until they were almost nose to nose. She pulled off her engagement ring, placed it in his palm, and closed his fingers around it. He gazed up at her pleadingly. She slowly backed away and finally left.

There was no stopping the tears now. They slid down his face, landing on Christine's ring. He heard her soft voice echo throughout the underground lair one last time.

"_Say you'll share with me one love…one lifetime…"_

Her precious viscount answered, _"Say the word, and I will follow you."_

"_Share each day with me, each night, each morning…"_

By the time she had reached the word 'morning', she had turned around for one last look at the underground lair.

"_You alone can make my song take flight…"_ He said in barely more than a whisper. He turned and seized the nearest candelabra. Then he half sang, half shouted,

"_It's over now, __**The Music of the Night**__!"_

Every syllable reflected the pure loathing and despair that was coursing through his veins at that moment. The echo of the glorious yet horrible sound was enough to make angels in heaven weep.

He proceeded in shattering every mirror in the underground labyrinth. He finally reached the largest one, where he pulled back the curtain and glared at his repulsive reflection for a split second, before swinging the candelabra into the mirror with all the strength he could possibly muster. The mirror instantly shattered, revealing a gaping back hole behind it. Bits of the shattered mirror littered the stone floor, giving it the appearance of an oversized diamond. He cast one last gaze over his lair.

His home… he had built it himself, and had lived in it for almost twenty years. It was heartbreaking to know that his twenty years of hard work would go to waste; the approaching mob would surely destroy it. He turned back to face the gaping hole before him, and then stepped into it, causing bits of glass from the mirror to crunch beneath his feet. He pulled the velvet curtain closed over the hole, plunging himself into complete and total darkness. He didn't know where he was going, but it had to better than what he was leaving behind.

(End of Recap)

(Sad part over, so put away the tissues)

**Two Months Later…**

It had been two months since the whole 'Christine' incident. Two whole, dreadfully long months of longing for an angel he knew would never return to him. Two horrible months of pain and despair he would have to endure for the rest of his miserable life. He had not been back to his lair since the night he had narrowly escaped the mob. He didn't want to know what the mob had done t it. In his haste to leave, he had carelessly left his mask lying on his organ, causing everyone to ponder what had happened to the infamous Opera Ghost. Some believed he was dead, others thought he had fled from Paris, never to return. Truthfully, he was still residing at the Opera Populaire, burnt to a crisp or not. The fire had only reached three levels, and the forces of law had been able to put it out before it inflicted any real damage. Thankfully, no one had been severely injured in the flames. No one thought he would dare return to the Opera House, so no one bothered to look for him. He doubted even Madame Giry, the only person he had ever been able to call a friend, knew or cared he was still there. He spent most of his time playing the spare instruments from the orchestra pit, composing songs, mainly about Christine.

This particular night he was on the rooftop, playing a song on the violin that he had written a few weeks ago. He gazed longingly up at the sun, which was setting behind the little cottages on the outskirts of the city, an immense red gem against the bright orange sky. An air of peacefulness filled the atmosphere, entwining with the sad, sweet melody that produced from the violin. How long he gazed at the sun, an hour, a day, an eternity, he never knew.

A sudden, loud creak from behind him awakened him from his daze. He immediately dashed behind the same statue he had hid behind the night of Ill Muto. He didn't even check to see who it was. He merely stood as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe. He knew that if anyone spotted him here, he would instantly be reported to the police. Oh, wouldn't _that_ just make Nadir's day! He shuddered to think what would happen then.

He leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the intruder in spite of himself. His heart missed a beat as he realized he had left his violin out. He mentally kicked himself for being so careless. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by soft footsteps from behind him. He didn't dare move, as if the slightest sound would give him away. He exhaled a breath he didn't know he had been holding before turning his head a fraction of an inch so he could see his unwelcome guest out of the corner of his eye.

It was a woman. She had a petite, attractive frame, and appeared to be around twenty. Her russet curls pulled back behind her head so they would not get in her eyes. She was lightly fingering the violin; as if it were something she had lost as a child and had suddenly found it. Something about her was vaguely familiar.

"He's been here…" She said in a barely audible voice.

He bit his lip and furrowed his brow. Something about this girl that was very familiar, but he could not place where he had seen her before. He could not see her face, and if she turned toward him, he would probably be able to place her.

She put down the violin and sighed. "He's not here…" She whispered.

What _was_ she talking about? There was no one here but him, and nobody with the slightest bit of common sense would be looking for him, and common sense was something just about everybody had! Well, everyone except that bothersome viscount, that is…

Suddenly, the girl did the very last thing he expected her to do. She began to sing.

"_Angel of Music,_

_Guide and guardian,_

_Grant to me your glory!_

_Angel of Music,_

_Hide no longer!_

_Come to me,_

_Strange Angel…"_

His jaw fell off his face and landed somewhere around his feet.

_It was_ _Christine. _There was no mistaking that angelic voice. She turned and slumped against the wall and sank into a sitting position. She didn't look like the Christine he had once known at all. Her face, which had once been cheerful, and full of life, was now tired and worn out, as if she had seen too many things she didn't want to see. Her eyes, which had once been bright and energetic, were now dull and had dark shadows underneath them.

She groaned and muttered "I'll look somewhere else," She quietly padded away, silently closing the door behind her.

He stood in absolute shock, still behind the statue. His mind racing faster than his heart was beating. It was as if the whole ordeal had happened faster than his brain could process it.

Had Christine really come back to him?

Had she really come back to the Opera Populaire, in hopes of finding him?

Joy flooded through him, a sensation he hadn't felt since… he didn't know how long. It was all too much, he couldn't take it anymore. He leapt out from behind the statue, and sang joyfully, to the sunkissed sky,

_"You alone can make _

_My song take flight,_

_It lives once more,_

_The Music of the Night!" _

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**Thanks for your time. I assure you my future works will not be nearly as horrible, I promise.**

**Please reveiw, flames warmly welcomed.**

**Purrs,**

**Frenchie-chan**


End file.
